


Like a Thief in the Night

by Vagrant_Blvrd



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Accidental Marriage, Hijinks & Shenanigans, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 13:00:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29454201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vagrant_Blvrd/pseuds/Vagrant_Blvrd
Summary: To be fair, it’s all Han’s fault.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 42
Kudos: 453





	Like a Thief in the Night

**Author's Note:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

To be fair, it’s all Han’s fault.

========

“That doesn’t make it better,” Din hisses, which in all honesty, Luke appreciates, he does, because it means Din’s still talking to him.

Given the situation they find themselves in, however, it might not be the best time to continue this discussion someplace less likely to get them killed.

“No, it doesn’t,” Luke agrees, a mix of the Force and Din’s low _kriff_ spurring him into action when he senses _intent_. The kind focused in their direction and coming directly from Din that always leaves Luke cold in the aftermath when all the ugly little _what ifs_ make themselves at home in his head.

Reaches out to snag a handful of Din’s cape in his hand before Din can step forward, use himself as a shield and yanks him back before a hail of blaster fire can hit him. Luke’s lightsaber sweeps up in an arc to deflect shots that get past the mouth of the alley.

Din gives him a look, and Luke has to remind himself that he’s not that nineteen year old kid who left Tatooine behind all those years ago to stop from rolling his eyes.

“You’re welcome,” he says, _smiles_. Din’s armor might be able to withstand that kind of assault, but the man inside the armor is soft and squishy and Luke promised his son he’d look after him as much as possible. “Also, duck.”

For a moment he thinks Din won’t, stubborn as hell like that, but he does. Drops down and tucks into a roll that brings him up and around, blaster up to fire - 

But Luke’s lightsaber is already in motion, hand snapping up and the grenade someone threw towards them reverses its trajectory, and picks up a little speed along the way courtesy of the Force.

“We should go before reinforcements arrive,” Luke says, turning away from the explosion that results. It’s stating the obvious, really, but he’s found doing so can be helpful in these kind of situations.

Din’s...staring at him, head tilted in a way that for the first time in a long while, Luke can’t interpret. Not that he’d ever claim to be an expert in reading Mandalorian body language, but Luke felt he had gotten a grasp on Din’s general demeanor.

“...Din?”

Luke hears a sigh, a low mutter too quiet for the modulator in Din’s helmet to pick up and then there’s a hand, a gloved hand that belongs to Din, wrapped around his arm and pulling Luke with him.

Also, voices coming from the direction of the earlier blaster fire and one lone grenade.

Angry voices.

“Move. _Now_ ,” Din snaps, as though he isn’t towing Luke behind him, as if Luke didn’t just suggest _they do that exact thing._

“Yeah, sure,” Luke says, drawing on memories of his teenage years for his response. He feels it’s merited. “Why not? That sounds like an excellent idea. Let’s do that.”

He doesn’t bother to pull his arm out of Din’s hand because, he reasons, this way he doesn’t have to worry about not knowing where Din is. Doesn’t have to wonder if the man’s off somewhere doing something incredibly ill-advised because he relies far too much on the durability of his armor for anyone’s peace of mind.

Yes, that.

========

“Leia. Hi,” Luke says, smile on his face that isn’t trying all that hard to be convincing. The way Leia’s squinting at him tells Luke she’s well aware of that, and also suspicious of what Luke has to say, which.

Hurtful, really. 

He isn’t _Han_. 

“So. There was a situation.”

Din is pacing.

Back and forth, sound of his boots on the metal decking strangely soothing.

Din is pacing, and Luke knows Leia can see him when he passes in range of the communications array because her eyes follow him until he moves out of range.

“You don’t say,” Leia says, attention landing back on Luke. “Does this have anything to do with intelligence reports of…” Leia’s eyes drop to what Luke assumes is a data-pad or printout, and winces when she’s not looking. 

She knows, though. 

She always knows.

“Ah, yes,” Leia says, nodding at whatever she’s reading. “Reports of an ‘altercation’ on a planet known to be a – what is it they’re calling it? Oh, yes, a ‘hive of scum and villainy’?”

Just hearing those words spoken aloud makes Luke think strangely fondly of Tatooine.

More specifically, Mos Eisley.

“Maybe?”

Leia looks up.

Right at Luke.

“Explain.”

========

It starts like this - 

Wait, no.

What happened was...no, no, that’s not right either.

How does Luke begin to explain a situation he’s still trying to figure out himself?

“We got married.”

Luke has never in all his life felt the kind of terror that fills him at Din’s words.

Because Leia.

Still waiting for Luke to explain the mess he and Din find themselves in.

Luke holds himself as still as humanly possible, irrational hope that by doing so Leia will either not see him or forget he’s there.

Because Din.

Leaning over Luke, one hand braced on the back of the chair Luke’s sitting in, cool metal of his helmet nearly brushing the side of Luke’s face.

Just.

Unexpected invasion of his personal space – which, by the way, he doesn’t object to from Din – but also the threat of Leia’s wrath.

“Oh?” Leia says, head tilted just so. “Do tell.”

========

Han has these...friends.

People he knew from another life, to hear him tell the story. People who do things the authorities as a whole tend to frown on.

Smuggling’s a big one. Black market deals also notable. Go together, actually. Particularly in this situation.

Luke hopes to build a new Jedi order, and painfully aware of the things he doesn’t know. 

Being able to consult Ben and Yoda on matters has been a great help, but there’s still so much knowledge lost.

He’s managed to retrieve some of it thanks to Ben and Yoda sharing what they know, but it’s been decades.

And these...friends of Han’s, they’re not the only ones out there. Countless others motivated by money and greed and unconcerned with how they do so.

Jedi temples and sites that were either destroyed outright by the Empire or later ransacked, vandalized by opportunists and thieves. Picked over in the interim by scavengers and others who happened upon them by chance.

A precious few relics circulate in black markets and underground dealers.

Some are simple to deal with, offer them credits or barter a trade. Others require...careful handling.

Most of the time Luke gets by on his own, sometimes - 

Well.

Sometimes they’re paranoid, and things don’t work out so smoothly.

Especially when a certain Mandalorian – really though, Luke suspects any Mandalorian would have had much the same effect – is involved.

========

“I asked him to stay with the ship,” Luke says, which is true. 

He had.

Been very polite, and even explained why having Din accompany him to meet with these associates who were friends with friends who’d worked with Han’s...friends this one time in the past would be a bad idea.

Because they were paranoid as hell, and likely to shoot first rather than listen to an explanation.

And, to Din’s credit, he’d listened to Luke. Wasn’t happy about it because apparently he’d worked with them himself in the past.

But then Din had gotten a call from Karga, something about warning him about some unsavory types in their sector of space and everything got confusing after that.

“...And then you married him?” Leia asks, chin in hand, gaze moving between Luke and Din who’s given up leaning over Luke and pulled up a chair of his own, the two of them pressed together to remain on camera.

Luke hums, doing a mental rewind of the utterly bizarre series of events that started with Din bursting into the tense meeting where Luke was just about to seal the deal and acquire a new set of holocrons for his school to...everything after that.

The yelling and screaming, accusations of betrayal and double-crosses. 

The shooting.

(And honestly, if Luke never sees Din take a blaster bolt to the head again even knowing he can just shrug it off thanks to his armor, he’ll die a happy man.)

And then more shooting, this time with Luke’s lightsaber in the mix, as well as judicious application of the Force, and then there had been the running.

Because planet-wide crime syndicate and well-trained foot soldiers and enforcers and rather than engage in a bloody massacre in what amounted to a misunderstanding and overreactions on everyone’s part, running had seemed the better option.

“Din found the chapel,” Luke volunteers, happy to throw his quasi-husband to his sister’s tender mercies. 

It’s the truth, too.

Luke had been focused on using the Force to see if they were being followed when Din yanked him into a small building.

Gaudy signs and lighting and several people dressed like dead musicians. A bored receptionist who’d looked the two of them up and down and asked if they wanted the standard package or the deluxe. Only a few credits more for the upgrade and it came with rings, in case they’d forgotten to bring their own.

Luke hadn’t caught that last part, just turned in time to see Din slap a handful of credits on the receptionist’s desk and asked her to hurry, and - 

Leia’s laughing.

Full-out gut-busting laughter that has her doubled over, hand up to forestall comments from Luke and Din.

Distantly, Luke can hear Han asking her if everything’s okay, but all Leia does is laugh.

...It goes on for a while.

Luke feels justified in ending the transmission. Thinks if Leia’s just going to laugh at her favorite brother on this, the day of his wedding, it’s within his rights to do so.

========

“But don’t tell her I said that,” Luke says to Din, deathly serious. “I’ll make you swear to secrecy if I have to.”

========

So.

Luke Skywalker.

Married.

He even has a ring.

Cheap little thing not worth the money Din paid for the deluxe package a dozen times over.

It catches the light, though, when Luke turns his hand just so. Glitters like precious metal, soft golden glimmer against his skin.

He’s sure it’s only a matter of time before it turns his skin an ugly mottled green, but for the time being - 

Well.

“I don’t think it’s legally binding,” Din says, the absolute killjoy. “We didn’t even sign anything.”

Luke lowers his hand to see Din fidgeting. 

In a Din sort of way.

Doesn’t look all that different to any of Din’s other moods if you don’t know what to look for. 

Luke does, or at least he’s learning.

For instance, he knows Din is avoiding meeting Luke’s eyes because his head is turned away, just enough to make it look as though he isn't, _but_.

There’s a patch on the wall, a few degrees to right of Luke’s face right now. Eye level. Took a blaster bolt in an incident with rival bounty hunters and a bounty puck out on Luke neither of them had known about.

Din patched it himself, silent and grim and guilty for something he really shouldn’t have been. Luke did just fine getting himself into trouble long before they even met, and it’s not the first time someone’s gone after Luke for the price on his head.

The point is, Din’s staring at that little patch right now. Probably using the reminder to pile on guilt that isn’t his to claim while he does.

Luke doubts most people who aren’t Mandalorians or wear full armor like they do on a regular basis would even notice, but Luke? 

Oh, he notices.

He even notices the way Din’s holding himself – all coiled tension like the slightest thing could set him off - isn’t from...anger or other things of that sort. 

It’s more like...like he’s bracing himself for a blow.

Perhaps a fight would be more apt. 

An argument, maybe.

“Planning to file a divorce from me so soon?” Luke asks, makes sure to pout the way Grogu’s been teaching him. All soulful eyes and small tilt of the head. 

Luke doesn’t have expressive ears like Grogu, but he must be doing something right because Din...he doesn’t crumble immediately at the sight, but his foundations aren’t quite as firmly dug in.

Luke bats his eyes.

Din’s head comes back center on Luke, angles down in what Luke knows means the equivalent of narrowed eyes and scowls and -

“ _Skywalker_.”

Hm. 

Better than the “Jedi” Din called him for the first three months of their acquaintanceship before moving on to Luke’s surname after that time with the would-be sith lords on a volcano-riddled planet best left forgotten.

“Din.”

Din’s helmet ticks down another degree, and then one more, the spot where Grogu grumbles to himself but usually toddles off to bed or other unpalatable chore Din’s seen fit to give him.

It doesn’t really work on Luke, because while he may still be within the first three decades of his life unlike Grogu, he’s not a child.

That, and unless Luke’s gravely misread things between the two of them, marriage shouldn’t be so completely offensive to Din.

Unless Luke has gravely misread things, in which case - 

Luke sighs, feels his mouth stretch into a rueful smile, apologetic, and reaches to take the ring off, and goes so completely still when Din’s hand comes up to cover his hands.

“...No,” Din says, like it’s been punched out of him. The hand over Luke’s pulls back so it’s not quite touching him. “Don’t.”

Luke watches Din watching their hands, and lets the complicated tangled mess of Din’s presence in the Force butt up against Luke’s for a moment.

It’s a heady experience, really. Fondness and affection and want all caught up with stronger things Luke’s hesitant to give name to before Din’s ready to accept them himself. 

Luke would feel guiltier about it if Din didn’t express those simpler feelings in a dozen, a hundred, countless little ways all the time in the smallest gesture.

“We could...see it as a trial period?” Luke says, suggestion popping up out of nowhere, words spilling out of his mouth without conscious thought.

The look Din gives him for them is completely warranted, one hundred percent understood, and yet Luke doesn’t bother trying to take them back or apologize for them.

Din pulls his head back, tilts it to the side.

Confusion, Luke knows. Bafflement. Incredulousness that verges on insulting.

Luke holds his be-ringed hand up, points at the wide band of metal on his ring finger. “I doubt this will last long.”

Cheap metal, and the general state of Luke’s life. 

Incredibly calm and one might even say boring one day, neck-deep in some galaxy-wide conspiracy theory looking to wipe the New Republic and all its allies and assorted others off the face of the map the next.

Not much in-between there.

Din stares at Luke, at the ring he’s wearing, and then - 

“Are you laughing at me, _Mand’alor_?” Luke asks, because a certain someone in this room neglected to tell the class that he became the king of Mandalore by winning a weapon forged by the first Mandalorian Jedi in combat against Moff Gideon for _months._

Probably would have cheerfully gone on like that if a challenger hadn’t appeared and nearly killed them both.

Not that it had been a new or terrifying experience for either of them, just.

The point Luke is trying to make is that Din’s life is far from typical as it is, and he doesn’t have the right to laugh at the disaster Luke’s is on any given day.

“I would never,” Din says, which is such a blatant lie Luke cannot believe the gall of this man. 

Of course he wouldn’t.

Luke holds his tongue as Din removes one of his gloves, light catching on the wide metal band on his ring finger as he does. He stays quiet as Din reaches for Luke’s hands, weaves their fingers together until the rings touch, soft metallic _clink_ filling the air.

“Trial period, you say,” Din says, words so quiet Luke barely hears them. 

It sounds so...well, bad, when the words are spoken out loud, but the way Din says them...like they might mean something?

“I still have the receipt,” Luke says, which is just as blatant a lie as Din’s earlier one, because firstly, there hadn’t been a receipt, and secondly, they were more focused on staying alive than worrying about being reimbursed later. 

Din snorts, and Luke’s breath catches in his throat when he untangles their fingers so he can hold Luke’s hand in his, thumb doing a slow sweep over the ring on Luke’s finger, infinitely gentle.

“Oh, well,” Din says, and his laughter sounds a little choked, his helmet’s modulator unable to compensate for the emotion to it. “In that case we should definitely do it.”

========

Later, Luke’s ring meets an unfortunate fate in a fight with some especially stubborn Imperial remnants on another world best left forgotten. Din’s ring – and his favorite pair of gloves – are lost in the sucking morass of quicksand on a jungle moon in an altercation with old enemies of his.

The two of them sit down, and have a very serious discussion as to how to proceed now the trial period is undeniably over.

Grogu chimes in with his own opinion on things, but since they mostly revolve around tasty frogs and other snacks he’s had along the way, they don’t help all that much in the decision making process.

However, seeing as the trial period yielded such favorable results they don’t mind the idea of actually getting married. 

All legal-like, even.

But first, thanks are in order.

========

“Why the hell are you thanking me?” Han demands, eyes not fully open and a truly amazing case of bed hair. “Do you idiots have any idea what time it is here? Are – Are you laughing? Luke, why the hell are you laughing?”


End file.
